


Persona non Grata

by Rabentochter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Break Up, Break Up Talk, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie is a Good Bro (Marvel), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feels, Fist Fights, Forgiveness, Getting Back Together, Guilt, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Tony Stark, Idiots in Love, Introspection, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), M/M, Making Up, Minor Violence, POV Loki (Marvel), Pain, Pining, Self-Reflection, Shame, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, nobody's perfect, sitting down and talking things out like adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: It wasn't unusual that Anthony and him argued and fought even years into their relationship. Only that this time, they both went too far and it leaves Loki with a broken heart, anger, and shame.After some time though, also with the wish to have Anthony back.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 49
Kudos: 193





	Persona non Grata

**Author's Note:**

> In an hour of of desperation, **NamelesslyNightlock** came to me and whispered words for this story into my ear which made me write this entire thing yesterday. If you think I was obsessed, you're right :D 
> 
> Thank you to **AmidnightDreary** for helping with editing and titling and all that good stuff ❤️

Years ago, and already long since they’d started their relationship, Anthony had agreed to eat a golden apple and to spend an eternity with him, Loki had thought that this could only be a good omen for the times to come. He knew a lot about disappointed hope, knew about pain cracking him open from the inside and the hard calling of reality when it came tumbling down around him. But not with Anthony.

They had clashed often, loudly — they both were too stubborn to give in like that, rather tore everything and everyone around them down with them. For them, even an argument was a matter of life and death. The agony of being alone, of being betrayed and being ditched once more for someone else’s favour, it did things to them they didn’t wish to experience again.

And they both knew things about the other that might have been better left unsaid; but words tumbled so easily from their mouths once you they’d found someone who looked at them earnestly and wanted to listen rather than to judge your crimes. Loki didn’t have many people in his life who’d allowed him this pleasure; it made Anthony more unique in his eyes than he already was and it made him want to keep his genius safer too. It was absolutely ridiculous, this desire, but he whispered his secrets and sins into Anthony’s ear and he knew he’d never tell any living soul of them.

It made him feel lighter around his heart, to know that he could share the burden with someone. It made him feel special when Anthony reciprocated in kind. His sins were no less red than Loki’s were, the sound of remorse in his voice called to Loki strongly. the void in his eyes when he spoke, and his lips glimmered from the whiskey in the sparse light. Loki loved tasting the sweet sourness and drank the confessions from Anthony’s lips, chased them with his tongue until they were his to have, to cherish until he’d be no more.

What both had known, felt to their bones but refused to acknowledge because they had _to trust_ , was that the other knew them too well. The eye twitch Anthony did when he was angry, how he started to smile his public grin when he got furious or felt cornered– the way he held his arms at his sides, articulated less with his hands the longer the argument went on.

The sharpness in his voice, laced with acerbity, aimed to hit where it would hurt, leave scars the other would need a while to recover from and licked them in secret.

Loki had felt it a few times aimed against himself, experienced the deadly calmness of Anthony’s jokes that were too pointed as to ignore. They’d crushed Loki but he hadn’t let it show—put on his favourite smile and retaliated in kind. He was good at that, Asgard had taught him well, he was a prince, he would not bend, not break, no more.

The twitch in Anthony’s face when a quip found its home and spread its poison there.

Loki feared each and every time that soon the golden apple would turn rotten for them. They made up. More or less vocally, sometimes it was a simple _I went too far, didn’t I,_ other times an invitation to travel somewhere else, to see something new.

They forgave, moved on; it wasn’t for the best every time, Loki knew, but they made it _work_. They wanted it to work and perhaps they were trying harder to avoid that trigger again but nobody was perfect, and they for sure weren’t anywhere close to it.

People had thrown obstacles in their way all the time, big and chunky, so small that they barely saw the trap before it was too late but they managed to overcome it all. It was partially spiteful. Nobody was allowed to triumph over them — people had done so too often and they wouldn’t give them their gratification.

So they made room to spend more time with each other; let themselves be found as they were busy with making each other lose their sense of reality, harsh groans and warm huffs against their ears, hands and nails raking down backs and shoulders, imprints of teeth that would stay a while or would fade away too soon.

Anthony’s eyes had shone brighter than any star Loki knew when he’d offered him the golden apple, a few years into their relationship that nobody but them believed to work out.

Now, Anthony’s eyes hadn’t shone at him for a while, instead they were burning with an almost hateful ferocity which Loki had never wanted to experience. He saw Anthony’s lips move as he kept on _talking_ as if they were discussing the weather and didn’t have one of the worst fights ever.

_And perhaps your birthright **was** to die. Maybe that would have been better for everyone._

And Loki felt everything inside of him turn colder. Because how could Anthony? His heart was beating up to his throat, his stomach felt inclined to join the revolt of this.

 _And you think that you’re so mighty and noble?_ Loki only felt the laugh break from his mouth, didn’t feel it as it rang hollow in their bedroom. _So many people died because of you and you think that you have become a better man but for what? Flying around in your suit? You take out the occasional villain and all is said and forgiven? No— The whole act is only that you feel better about yourself, it never was about revenge for anyone else but you._

“Take that back.”

“No.” Loki’s grin cut into his face, stretched as it was, and it cut into the core of his heart. He knew what he was doing—what he could do best, self-sabotaging and destroying everything he held dear. But he was howling on the inside with pain, impressions of a cold and white planet were flying past his inner eyes. It was where he should have been _left_ , he should not be standing here, that was what Anthony told him. And his mouth was moving, he couldn’t stop himself from delivering one after the other blow that would hurt.

 _Jarvis, Anthony’s butler from childhood days,_ “—probably be disappointed in the man you’ve become. You’re drenched with your self-obsession, you cannot see others standing in front of you, only wanting the best for you. It’s _impossible_ for you to—”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Anthony’s smile was all gentle, his voice so soft where Loki’s had been growing louder, “didn’t Frigga die because you told the Kurse where to go? And you want to tell me that _I_ have disappointed Jarvis? At least I didn’t kill _him_.”

It hurt as if Anthony had personally slapped him in the face.

The guilt for Frigga’s death had been gnawing at him for years—that he still didn’t know what _exactly_ had happened made it all the worse but he hadn’t managed to bring himself to ask Thor directly. He didn’t want to hear how it was his fault – maybe it wasn’t as bad as he imagined but what _if it was?_ Loki had managed by believing Anthony that it wasn’t his blame to bear — that some things happened out of his control, that he _couldn’t_ have known where the Kurse was headed.

He remembered hearing this, and how he’d allowed himself to gain hope that it wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d tried to believe it, _had_ done his best at letting go of the guilt that came with it and—

Anthony was using it to cut him open from the inside out. Put him down and left him there for all to see, and he could do nothing but wait for his inevitable destruction. It was an invitation for all his darkness to slip beneath his defences and to break him.

He stood there, feeling completely open and _defenceless_ , knowing that whatever would Anthony throw at him next, would break him into pieces. He didn’t— unwanted tears sprang to his eyes, bitter and full of regret. Pain was starting to make it difficult for him to breathe or reply.

_Why was he still here?_

“Are you leaving now or what?” He heard Anthony at his back when he turned around, opening a portal that would lead him _somewhere_.

“Yes.”

“Good riddance.” Anthony’s eyebrows twitched. “Don’t bother coming back.”

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

He wasn’t expecting an _okay, Lokes, come back, let’s talk about this._ He wasn’t waiting for a _Loki, please, don’t—_

He knew nothing of that sort would come. Instead he walked through the portal, refusing to look back because he didn’t want Anthony to see his tears, and would let him see how much he’d wounded him — that he’d triumphed over Loki.

He walked on Yggdrasil’s branches and walked until his feet started hurting. His destination was unknown to himself. The only thing that mattered was to get away as far as he could. It didn’t matter how fast — nobody ever walked upon Yggdrasil’s branches anymore. It was only him since Asgard was no more and Frigga wasn’t here anymore either.

Eventually, a promising exit appeared. Loki smelled alcohol, he heard rowdy laughter and thought that perhaps, this was the place to drown his sorrow and guilt in.

It turned out that he’d been right. Nobody wondered about a stranger appearing out of nowhere. The attention was on someone else who was throwing fists with another stranger who’d probably asked for the trouble; Loki asked for a drink without end, dumped a payment on the bar he thought was enough for his wish. No complaint came, a jug was placed under his nose that smelled of nothing. He couldn’t even feel joy upon seeing it. In fact.

He felt strangely—

Empty.

The liquid tasted sweet, sour in the aftertaste only. He drank it mechanically.

He should be thinking about Anthony now, shouldn’t he? Frigga.

There was nothing inside of his head.

He kept drinking, drowned himself in the jug, swallowed as fast as possible, didn’t think of giving his body the chance to burn the alcohol quicker than he wanted it to.

Everything was so loud. It was wonderfully distracting, the jug so cold and cool in his hand, the smell so refreshingly not there, it wasn’t whiskey, it didn’t taste of honey or was rich. It was perfect, just so _sour_ that it made his face scrunch up and he wiped the tears away as they kept falling. He _didn’t want_ to cry. It only happened so that his eyes refused to catch up on where his head was. Maybe. He couldn’t say, didn’t want to tell, only wanted to drink and drink, drink to forget.

Rage would follow later, he was sure. His thighs tingled and he felt them involuntarily twitch when he felt losing control over his body.

 _Yes_.

He finished off the refill too, his head _finally_ turning lighter again, kept the sorrows at bay.

An arm was slung over his shoulders, squeezed inappr– innaproprialy— he laughed the stranger in the face. His hand found the bare neck, so tempted to squeeze, to end this, better them than him—

Oh, he loved denial and what it did to him.

He joined the fist fighters when the stranger demanded payback for the squeeze – as if he hadn’t touched Loki first. _Nobody_ was allowed to touch him without his permission, only Anthony had the right and— he _used to have it._ Loki wasn’t planning on coming back. To put one foot ever in their home again because he couldn’t– if Anthony had lied so blatantly about this, then what else had been lies?

His body moved as if it wasn’t his, a mocking grin played over his lips as he accepted the invitation to a good ol’ brawl. A simple comment about the man’s red face was all that was needed to set off the fight; and oh, the stranger had _friends_ , that was good to know.

Loki had always appreciated an enemy that came with surprises, no matter how much it would hurt him in the end but it kept him busy, had him wonder and laugh — and while the stranger’s technique was sloppy, _he_ was the drunk one and everything was _off_ , his muscles were faster than he was thinking.

Pain burst over his face as the fist met his cheek, something cracked loudly.

But it made his blood start boiling, something inside of him reacted vividly. _Pain_ , yes—

It was everywhere, it was what he was about, what Loki _was_ , what shaped and formed him. And tears were blurring his sight, his head was twelve feet above the ground but he hit back—

His defence was weak, he’d been cracked open but his offence was as good as it could be under these circumstances. His cheek hurt but he smiled through the pain, his fist met the soft stomach barely protected by the clothing. The other doubled over in pain because _oh, did Loki want to pay the universe back._

The other’s friends were closing in on him as he waited with hold breath, anticipation cursing through him. There was a kick against the back of his knees he hadn’t seen coming. He stumbled forward, his defence was in shambles. _What would Heimdall say now if he saw him going down like that?_ His feet caught one of the attackers where it _hurt._

The howl of pain was so different to the laughter, the excited cheers. It was darkly satisfying, made Loki’s want for blood to flow, _grow—_

Another kick, he stumbled to the side, his arm lashed out to hit the other in the jugular. Choking sounds, one man was down. The floor was creaking beneath his feet. _Payback time_ , another turn to the left. Loki focused on the one running towards him. A knife was glinting in his hand. It didn’t matter. He stepped aside, grabbed one arm and threw him over his shoulder into the growing mob. Cheers, enraged shouts.

He was starting to forget what had happened. A kick against his sides had him bend over. He was stumbling, stumbled— hard kicks flew against his ribs when he was down. And perhaps he welcomes the sweet pain, shooting raggedly over his wounded body because he deserved to feel this, to be _hurt_ because he was a monster, wasn’t he, he should be treated according—

He grabbed an ankle with both hands, got up on one knee, twisted it and felt it break beneath his fingers.

_He wouldn’t go down like that, he was no dog._

His head was still spinning. He held his arms up to protect his face, blocked the worst of the blows as he got up. He rammed an elbow into the face of one who’d gotten too close into his face, saw blood flowing from his nose, now in a crooked shape. A smile twisted his lips.

“More?” he asked gently, his voice out of breath.

There were four left, three taken out of four, he hadn’t kept count. _Thor would scold him._ The mob was growing closer together. It left Loki less room to spin around him than he’d had to begin with, barred light to come through and they all reeked of blood money and death. _Nothing new_.

He went for the one closest to him, his arm up, the knee placed into the groin. A soft groan but no— he grabbed the long hair, tied together unlike his was and _pulled—_

“Bitch,” the woman hissed.

“Yes,” Loki replied and he felt like laughing at her for stating something that obvious. But he kept pulling, her nails were in his face, scratching him open until— He let go abruptly, she fell to the ground.

The next one went down with another broken nose. He’d been too focused on the woman _. Lovers?_ Loki wondered distinctively. Rage was burning in him as he got reminded of what he’d just _lost, because of himself._ He didn’t even have anyone else to blame, only himself for allowing his defences to crumble like his had. He’d thought of Anthony as _perfect for him_ , and oh he’d been, he _was_ the perfect tool to bring Loki down. No one else could have done what he did.

The other two came at him at the same time, their moves quick, both tall as he was, not heavy. They had speed to their advantage, Loki only his reflexes — and the alcohol was wearing him down. He miscalculated the distances, his own arm reach.

Blows fell on his face like rain during a storm. He felt a vein burst in his right eye, nothing but _pain_ —

—~—

He couldn’t remember how the fight had ended.

But he woke up somewhere else, a bottle of the drink from the bar was laying on the ground next to him. Nothing was missing from his body. His face was pulsating as if someone had thrown Mjölnir against it and given him a good polishing.

He didn’t know where he was and while it wasn’t cold here — Loki felt cold.

An image of his home crawled up, a warm fire and Anthony bent over his tablet, Loki’s parchments thrown everywhere because he lived in pure chaos.

He took the bottle and drank. He didn’t want to deal with that.

Cold realisation crept over him that he couldn’t go back home because his home had thrown him. He was— _persona non grata,_ he thought with a bitter laugh.

There was no home, there was only forward moving; no matter how much his legs hurt and if it felt like his heart was pierced by thousands of knives.

Loki wasn’t proud of what he was doing, drinking and causing chaos, fighting anyone who needed to be punched in his opinion, but by the Nines— everything was better than thinking about Anthony would be.

That didn’t mean he was successful with it.

It only meant he delayed it for as long as he could until he would find something or his body needed to shut down and he took a room, and stared at the wall. The ceiling. He stared and he cried, not even sure about what this time. Because every memory hurt.

His fingers were clenched in his hair, pulling and pain was bursting over his head as he screamed into his pillow. The furniture he broke in a fit of rage, he repaired with his seiðr when he felt calmer again. Nobody would ever know what happened. They heard nothing, saw nothing, didn’t say anything.

The absence of Anthony was like a hot knife being thrust through his chest. It pained him, thinking about it, how it _hurt_ , everything _hurt_ , he didn’t even have other words for it.

Pride didn’t allow Loki to go back — he also didn’t _want to_. No matter how much he ached to see Anthony again. Maybe, one day. When he’d gotten to terms with what he had said. What he’d been thrown against his head. Words, like deep wounds, left scars and he couldn’t just _forget_. It was too soon.

—~—

Loki held onto the anger when he eventually went back to New Asgard, hoping to find distraction in Thor’s company. He told him that he _didn’t want to hear anything about Stark._ It was a lie, he wanted to hear how Anthony was doing but he _didn’t want_ to hear about him as well. 

And Thor was _Loki’s brother_. He kept his mouth shut, only smiled and pulled him into a hug that Loki refused to acknowledge as a comforting gesture. New Asgard was warmer than he had it in memory. But what did people say? _Absence makes the heart grow fonder._

Thor kept him distracted throughout the day and if he thought Loki hadn’t noticed him messing the taxing plans up on purpose, then— but it made him _stay distracted_. That was what mattered and it gave Loki a new purpose as he kept running the numbers in his head. Thor was reading – _yes, reading –_ in the chair at the fireplace.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thor asked. He was so nonchalant about it that he didn’t even lift his eyes from the book.

“No.” Loki put the pen down after writing the last number and went to the couch. His back ached from sitting upright for so long.

They stayed silent for a while longer, Loki called a back to him for reading but he couldn’t focus on the words anymore. They were starting to swim on the pages, blurry and absolutely not _sharp._ He’d have to look the author up what kind of crap they thought they were doing with that.

Thor offered him quietly a tissue and Loki accepted it equally quietly.

“We fought,” he eventually broke the silence. “We’ve been dancing around each other for a while previous to that, we both were _tense_. And then, something made us snap.” He looked to Thor. “I can’t say what it was, only that it—” He frowned, “I think I forgot to tell him that someone had called and left a message for him. I was busy with researching something? I didn’t write down who called for once, afterwards I forgot about it. It had to do with the Avengers apparently.”

Thor nodded, offered no insight which Loki was glad for. He didn’t _want_ to hear anything about it.

“But it exploded in his face, to speak when he met up with the others.” Loki ran a hand through his face, felt his swollen eye bags protrude heavily. “Nobody got hurt, I think, but he wasn’t happy. He came home, I just had a breakthrough with my research and it set him off.”

“Unfortunate timing.” Thor looked at him like a lost puppy on the search for his favourite chew toy.

“Yes.” Loki’s eyes wandered over to the fire. “We—” he cleared his throat. “Clashed,” he finished the sentence lamely. He felt like he was going to choke any second now.

“Your tongues got the better of you?”

Loki nodded, averted his eyes from the fire. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He opened the book forcefully again, trying to comprehend the sentences he was reading. _He was reading._

“I’m sorry, Loki.” Thor’s apology sounded sincere. 

The funny thing was that Loki was sorry too. It had been enough time to come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t— been innocent either. That he provoked Anthony enough to trigger him, knowing that they both were tense and terse, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. Loki wasn’t a nice man but for Anthony? He’d sworn to be a better man, would try to be _better_ and work on himself. He’d failed that moment in a spectacular way. 

And where he hurt, where he felt like he’d been cut open, he could only imagine how it must feel for Anthony. They _had been in love_. One didn’t spend years together, faced storm after storm with each other and felt nothing when you came out on the other side. They had both too quick tongue and too much pride, too many wounds they could stab into. The trust had been betrayed by both so fast, no need to think twice as long as it _hurt_.

Loki knew what to say to twist the dagger deeper. Just to angle it so that it wouldn’t kill someone else but that it still would and could cause immense pain. Nobody wanted to bleed out from the inside but he supposed, that was what he’d been doing there. It was a gift – to be so skilled, to have this trust beforehand to _know_ where to hit. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have it. But it was a gift he couldn’t let go of – only try his best at curbing it in.

He’d lost his control with Anthony.

The truth of that fact had a similar effect on him as if he rammed a blade into his lungs, punctured them deeply enough that he could taste the blood on his lips. 

What Anthony had told him, didn’t hurt any less though. The words were _still_ inside of his head, circling above him like ravens waiting for the prey to stop running. He hadn’t stopped running yet. He hadn’t collapsed yet entirely to his feet, only taken short breaks before pressing on, and on—

“How did Frigga die?” he asked into the silence. “Thor?”

Thor’s blue eyes shone warm in the flicker of the orange flames. “She saved Jane’s life,” he whispered as if the memory was hurting him. He took a moment for himself before he slowly started to open up about the day the Kursed took Frigga’s life and what had happened while Loki had been trapped in the cell. 

It was not _good_ to hear about it but it was a necessary evil, Loki supposed. He hated crying, with all his soul but—

It wasn’t as bad as he had feared. It wasn’t— any less pleasant to hear about Frigga dying not when—

Frigga had been one for tricks and it _hurt_ that she gave her life to rescue Thor’s mortal but—

“It wasn’t your fault, Loki,” Thor said hoarsely, “if anything, then the blame is mine to bear. I was the one who brought Jane to Asgard and entrusted her care into our mother’s hands. I could have been there faster—”

Loki only shook his head. It wasn’t Thor’s fault. It probably wasn’t his either but he didn’t feel like facing that so soon again, not when so many wounds were torn open already and bleeding profoundly. They talked quietly for a while longer, trying to ignore the giant Bilgensnipe standing in the room. Loki ignored the shivers wreaking his frame and how close he was to falling apart right now; chose to seek solace with Thor in the depths of the bottle and squeezing into one bed later.

When he woke up, his head pounding from last night’s excess, Loki felt significantly lighter. He wasn’t _healed_ or anything remotely like that but he felt as if a part of him had found peace. They didn’t speak of it.

—~—

Loki chose to stay in New Asgard for a while longer, he didn’t feel like going out on his own when his world wasn’t in its axes yet, still turning wildly, no compass would ever bring him anywhere in this condition.

His heart ached upon the realisation how close he was to Anthony, closer than he’d been in a while and yet — he was so far from him too. They shared the same realm but it didn’t feel like they did, the distance was equal from Jötunheim to Midgard if you asked Loki.

He occasionally caught wind of what Anthony was doing with his company and what was going on with the Avengers when Thor or the Valkyrie were asked to join them. Thor was— considerate enough not to be _too on point_ with his reports and tales of victory whereas the Valkyrie did what she loved the most: riled him up and dropped Anthony’s name as often as she could.

It had the wonderful effect that Loki could spar with her often to work out the aggression he felt, the grief that threatened to consume him because _oh, did she want a fight_. They were never sure who’d win this time – she had more experience on her side _apparently,_ but Loki was Loki, and he fought as he lived: unexpected and chaotically.

If Midgardians knew about the therapy of beating friends up? Loki wasn’t too sure about it but he wondered whether to propose it to them; he felt calmer after each session, his sides hurting from the exercise and his fingers numb from the grip he had on the daggers’ handles.

“So, I talked to your Stark today,” Valkyrie said as she came back, a hand on her sword’s handle.

“Valkyrie, no—” Thor tried to intercept but Loki only shook his head.

“What is it?” He _wanted_ to know, he realised. And her tone wasn’t as aggressive as it usually was, it sounded thoughtful. He didn’t trust her any inch further than he could throw this piece of cheese but he wanted to know what brough this change about.

“Well, he’s at least as pining for you as you do for him.” She threw him one unimpressed stare. “Not that he said that much but it was pretty obvious from how he kept rejecting that Masque woman.”

Loki’s eyes shot up.

Thor cleared his throat but didn’t say anything further.

“Which is so funny Lackey, because you left him what, almost two years ago?”

 _Had it truly been so long?_ Loki hadn’t realised. Not fully. He’d kept himself busy with everything.

“But he doesn’t want to take her out for dinner and she’s been trying for a while.”

“And he– didn’t accept?” Loki asked numbly. Hope was slowly starting to burn in his chest.

“No _p_ e.” Valkyrie popped the ‘p’ loudly. “A fool, in my opinion. But I figured you might want to hear about it because I’m getting sick of seeing your sad and mopey face every day.”

“My mop—”

“You _mope_ a _lot_.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, get over it. Either do something about it or fucking leave it be. You can’t cry after one man forever.”

 _Do you want to bet?_ Laid on Loki’s tongue but he kept quiet. He was as sad as Thor to admit that Valkyrie _did_ have a point. He knew that— he didn’t want anyone else than Anthony. He didn’t want to open himself up again like that and oh, that was probably a slippery slope leading towards an unhealthy coping mechanism– but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t already coping by doing exactly that. So far, throwing punches with the Valkyrie did wonders and he was doing his work on New Asgard, aided Thor where he could and his silvertongue was wanted. 

That night, Loki went to bed with his head tumbling into each and every direction. Everything felt _torn_ inside of him.

He felt New York’s calling, wanted to go there to draw Anthony into his arms and kiss him—forget about their fight and arguments. Forget. Forgive. Loki was prone to forgive slights from the ones close to him but he wasn’t one to forget. He wanted to, though. It would make everything so much easier, his life more bearable than it was currently.

He missed burying his nose into Anthony’s hair, longed for the feel of his curls against his face again. His beard scratching and leaving burns when he kissed Loki with all that he had. 

He missed feeling these calloused fingers on his skin, the small white scars at his arms from where science had gone wrong. He remembered the spots that made Anthony laugh breathlessly when Loki tickled him, just there beneath his ribs and around his navel, at the soles of his feet.

He missed the sound of Anthony’s voice, the warmth of his body when they laid in bed to cuddle. The sleep drunken voice when Loki woke up and felt like doing something about their morning woods. He wanted—

There was nothing he rather wanted than to go back in time, to do things differently this time around. It wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? It couldn’t be. Loki turned around to bury his face in his pillow, screamed in silent agony and fury for how nasty life was treating him. If this was a test, then he wasn’t sure he wanted to know _what for_. He thought Anthony had been his reward, his sweet and unexpected reward for what he’d gone through before—

They had found each other, weathered the scorn of the Avengers’ who were _not_ happy at all that Anthony had chosen _him_ of all the people he could have chosen from. Their first villain, the one with dubious morals and who dyed Hawk’s hair green when Loki felt like it.

He missed the time where they had been a _they_ and not a _me and him._

And Norns, it was as Valkyrie had said, he only needed to gobble up his courage and go to Anthony. But _Norns,_ did he dread it too. He didn’t— He supposed he didn’t want to be the first one who gave in and relented. _Talk it out,_ he thought numbly. The idea chased shivers of dread down his spine. He wanted Anthony but he didn’t want to face him.

He— If they could just skip past all this. Forget anything had ever happened and pick things off where they’d left it last, where they’d been happy and content. Loki felt tiredness washing over him in waves, his fingers buried themselves deeper into the soft pillow. It smelled of fruits, _citrus?_ It was a new washing powder they were using, he couldn’t say yet exactly what it was. But— he was glad it wasn’t the same that was used in Anthony’s house.

There was much he could tolerate but— to everything, there was a limit and he didn’t feel like testing waters yet by having his pillows smell of his old home.

Sleep didn’t come to him easily, despite feeling it tugging at him from every corner. He woke up with sweat running down his forehead, his heart racing and worry, _deep worry_ was clutching his heart and held it in an iron fist. It had— been a while since he’d dreamt of Anthony. But he supposed, with his last thoughts on devoted to Anthony, it wasn’t as big of a surprise as it could be.

Yet, the nightmare of seeing Anthony fall from the sky, the suit not responding and Loki could only watch? It haunted him. It was absolutely stupid of him and he was aware that it didn’t make sense but— _Norns, he wished he could have done something._ He could have slowed the fall, made sure that the impact wasn’t as traumatising as it had been.

Anthony’s eyes, so full of pain as he'd lain there in his self-made crater, silently begging for him to end his life, to free him from this—

Loki wasn’t sure if he’d ever forget it. The _pain,_ so much that tears were the only thing he could manage _;_ Loki had kneeled there, useless, forgetting everything that he could have done with his powers, what he’d learned once upon a time. His seiðr, it had been _useless_. Anthony, in pain and crying. No words had passed their lips— shock and pain turned them mute.

_Was Anthony doing okay?_

There was no FRIDAY who could tell him the answer. There was no turning to the side and shaking Anthony’s shoulder so he woke up and Loki could see for himself. There was—nothing he could do.

He hurried into the living room and turned the TV on, didn’t want to be alone anymore with his thoughts. A documentary was being shown about grasslands. It wasn’t exciting but the soothing, bored voice was helping him a little bit with calming down. Loki rubbed over his eyes, wiped the few tears away that had escaped him. _Norns._

A rabbit was running over the screen. Loki found himself envying the creature for its simple life. It probably didn’t have to worry about something stupid as _heartbreak_ and wished it could take words back.

He didn’t want to face Anthony because then he would have to face his own past self; acknowledge the harm he’d done to Anthony. He still felt his mouth form the words, ‘ _disappointed in the man you’ve become. You’re drenched with your self-obsession’_. Shame was whipping him like a soldier who was executing his task. He couldn’t believe what he'd done to Anthony.

They had _loved_ each other. 

Their trust, hard earned and not easily won, and he’d kept all of his secrets to himself. And he still— hadn’t told _anyone_ of them, they were still his and Anthony’s, nobody else knew of them. But he’d used Anthony’s dark confessions against himself, had used them to tear _his_ defences open and down, had set fire to them once they were where he’d wanted them. Could he only take the words back, undo them and the pain. For each of them.

The rabbit on the screen hopped away.

The narrator still sounded as bored as he’d been in the beginning.

“Lackey? What are you doing here?”

Loki turned his head around to see Valkyrie stand in the doorway. She wore a frown on her face. “Watching TV,” he replied.

“You never watch TV,” she said and walked over, to sit down next to him. “Is someone going to die?” She asked then.

“I don’t think so?” Loki offered hesitantly. He doubted it, since it was a documentary but— By the Nine, he didn’t want her to leave. He _couldn’t_ bear the thought of being alone with himself right now. “We can watch something else.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said so far,” Valkyrie said and grabbed the remote, hit a few numbers hastily as if she was afraid Loki would change his mind. He wouldn’t. Not as long as she stayed and reminded him that he _wasn’t_ alone, that he’d only had a bad dream. _Nothing serious has happened._ The documentary switched to a—

“What is this?”

“Wrestling,” Valkyrie replied calmly. “Lots of fights, lots of blood. Nothing where you have to be invested in to understand what is going on.”

“Ah.” That was all Loki could think of in response. Two women walked up to the ring, both looked ready to tear each other’s hair out. The fight started shortly after and they _went for it_.

Valkyrie next to him seemed to have the time of her life. Loki… didn’t mind it but he was used to seeing people spar. But she stayed, she didn’t ask him any uncomfortable questions he would have to avoid to his best abilities. He didn’t say anything, only listened to her as she started to rattle off the names of the fighters, listed their accomplishments and was– in overall, Loki would say, complete and utter enamoured with what was happening on the screen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Valkyrie _did_ say when the matches had come to an end and the morning light was already shining through the windows.

“A bad dream,” Loki said quietly in response.

“Ah.” Valkyrie sighed. “Those suck.”

“They do.”

They were silent for a while longer.

“Listen, Loki. When I lost my partner to Hela, I lost her _completely_. There was no going back for me, no doing anything differently. She was dead.” She looked at him, and a smile curled on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “She saved me, and I won’t be able to thank her for that. I can’t ask her if she’d like to join me on the couch to watch wrestling. I can’t let her take me out dates and make new memories with her.”

Loki opened his mouth, she raised a finger and put it on his mouth, shushing him in her crass manner.

“The _point is_ ,” she took a breath. “I mourned for her. I still do, from time to time. Maybe I’ll fall in love again someday but I had her with me for so long, that it feels strange to think about loving someone else. If I do, I do. But she is gone. _Your immortal,”_ she poked him with her other hand in the chest, “is still out there. Hasn’t much interest in anyone else. Do you know how lucky you are?”

“I don’t feel particularly lucky,” he tried to sneer but his voice was too tired for it. He closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Of course you don’t.” Her voice became uncharacteristically soft. “You’re in pain. You do everything that you can so you _don’t_ think about him at all. It’s exactly what you shouldn’t do, Lackey. Get your shit together. You both hurt each other, admit it, come to terms with it. That’s what people do, no matter how much they love each other.”

“I _know._ ”

“Do you?” An eyebrow arched up. “Because I don’t feel like you do. You behave as if Ragnarök happened. _Get over it._ You can do something about it? Do it. Or don’t. But stop pulling this fucking long face. I meant it when I said that I can’t see it any longer.”

Another sigh escaped Loki. He knew she was right; _he knew_. Did it make it any easier though? _No_. It hurt him, somewhere. He couldn’t say why it did but it felt like she was attacking him personally. Perhaps, because he hadn’t asked for her advice. What he’d wanted had been to sit together, get distracted from his nightmare. He could already feel the toll another sleepless night was taking on him. At the end of this, he’d come out and look like his own skull — his eyebags so dark that they looked like the holes of his head. His skin was pale enough that he looked like a sheet from time to time.

A memory of Anthony came up, comparing his skin to their bed sheet.

 _“One day you’ll look exactly like it and I won’t be able to tell the difference anymore,”_ he’d said with a teasing smile. He’d been laying on Loki, just perfectly positioned that he could kiss Loki whenever he wanted.

_“Oh no. And what will you do then?”_

_“Tell everyone that I’ve married a ghost.”_ Anthony’s eyes had sparkled in delight. _“What else? Tony Stark, Ghost Rider. Sounds even better than Tony Stark, Iron Man. Don’t you think so too?”_

_“I object solely because I rather stay alive and be at your side than anything else.”_

_“Now_ that _is of course preferable to anything else.”_ Anthony had rolled his eyes. _“But seriously, we’ve got to take you out to see the sun more often. Just the slightest tan, and I’ll never lose you in my bed.”_

 _“Don’t you wish to keep me in your bed forever?”_ Loki had asked teasingly, an idea forming in his head. _“Imagine all the things we could do if I was here, open and available for you, at any and all time.”_ His groin had been thrust pointedly upwards, arousal was slow but steadily growing inside of him.

_“Tell me more—”_

Valkyrie snapped with her fingers in front of his face. “Hello, Lackey? You're still in there? Did you fall asleep on me with your eyes open? Are you creepy enough to do that?”

He caught her wrist in a careful grip. “I haven’t fallen asleep.”

“ _Good_ because you better now tell me what you want to do. I’ll make sure you stick to it unless you have a change of heart with reasonable excuses.”

“Are you that demanding around Thor too?” Loki asked, only half jokingly.

“Not anymore. He’s so deep into his scrolls that I barely see him outside of them. Only when we go fighting with the Avengers. Or have a dinner. Or spend time with you. Or he tries to set me up with someone else he’d just met, no matter if they’re inclined that way too but hey—” she shrugged. “It’s fun. I should set you up with someone else too, I think. But what was your response, you said?”

“I haven’t said anything yet, you were rambling.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Right. This time.” She made an inviting gesture with her hands. “Go for it.”

Loki stared at the dead TV, wishing it would turn back on all sudden. Would show them wrestling matches so Valkyrie was distracted enough that she didn’t notice him answer anymore. “I still love him.” His heart did a funny little thing that he refused to name.

“Now that is leading us somewhere.” Valkyrie sounded happy. “Do you want him back though or is that a ‘I love him from afar it’s better’ thing?”

Loki snorted a laugh. He already _was_ loving Anthony from afar. “If it’s possible, then I want him back.”

“ _Finally.”_ Valkyrie groaned in what Loki only could call, exasperation. “Now then, what do you want to do about that little wish of yours?”

“I—” he frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, we’ll blame the time on that. It _is_ rather early and you usually have at least two cups of tea inhaled.” She got up rapidly, far too composed and she was _excited._ “C’mon, tiger. Get that bony ass off the couch.”

He complied and grabbed her hands, followed her into the kitchen with remarkable no resistance. Perhaps— he needed this ass kick. And he was afraid that if he didn’t grab this opportunity now with both hands, that it would slip through his hands and Anthony— would be even further from him than he already was.

Valkyrie made them tea — Loki hadn’t even known that _she knew_ how to do that.

“I’ve watched you often enough,” she replied with a smug smile. “Now, first step first for your heartbreaker romance you’ve got going on. You said you want him back. We know that he has no interest in others yet. Therefore, the chances are just high enough that he also wants you still. Not that they’re high, he might also think it’s better never—”

“ _Val!”_ he cut her off sharply as his smile was starting to slip off his face.

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “You both need to talk with each other.”

He lowered his gaze to his tea. “I know. The problem as I see it however is that he isn’t _here._ ”

“Thor invites him over. Done. We make it a celebration for New Asgard, Stark’s invited because he helped us set up the new arc reactor.” She arched a brow at him, made him feel stupid for even _thinking_ that this could be an obstacle. “We won’t say you’re here, unless he asks specifically. If he doesn’t attend, I’ll get his ass and get him here. Or Thor makes it to a royal decree and he _has_ to come—”

Loki didn’t like the sparkle in her dark eyes. It looked like she had too much fun at the prospect of manhandling Anthony. “I don’t want you to hurt him.”

Her face turned blank.

“Val?”

“I didn’t _hurt him,_ ” she replied carefully. To Loki it looked like she was trying to avoid tapping into holes she would never get out of. “But I might have threatened him with bodily harm if he kept making such a fucking long face yesterday because two mopey faces are two faces too many?”

His jaw dropped open. Dropped open, fell to the floor and stayed there. He didn’t know what to say to _that_. Perhaps, perhaps it was sentiment? He felt warm all over at her announcement though, surprise was definitely one of the emotions running over him. The tea in his hand needed a sudden tasting. He was lucky that he couldn’t burn his tongue because it had cooled down enough. It was no longer fancy and better tasting soup.

“I know I’m the best,” Valkyrie said, humble as she was and gracing him with her blessed presence. Her grin was startling and delightful. “And you promise me that you’ll get your shit together when he’s here?”

“ _If_ he comes,” Loki took care to emphasise the if, “then I promise you that I’ll strike up a talk with him. If he doesn’t wish to though—”

“Then you better try again,” she interrupted him and her smile had turned as sharp as her knives were. “Because if you give up after just one try, I _will_ personally make sure to set your bed on fire.”

“I—”

“Yes.” she smiled, sweet as sugar now. “And you’ll chase your man and hunt him down until he agrees to hear you out. Otherwise you can tell him I’ll make meatballs out of his balls, and I can already tell you that they _won’t_ taste good when I force them down your throat.”

“That’s… rather violent and descriptive,” Loki said slowly. “Valkyrie, are you in need of something?”

“Sex,” she replied dryly. “Or sleep. I’m in a weird mood, Lackey. Live with it. I mean everything that I say, even if it’s more uncensored than you’re used to, you fine nincompoop.”

“Nincompoop.” His eyebrows shot up. “Fancy words. Who are you and what have you done with the Valkyrie that I know?”

“She’s sleeping with her eyes closed and wants sex.” Her stare was flat.

Loki felt a smile curl on his lips. “I’ll do my best.”

“With sex? _What_?”

“Hunting after Anthony,” he replied. The spiel had turned. Now _he_ was having fun, and that at Valkyrie’s expense. It was _amazing._ He loved the feel of mischief bubbling in his chest, how light it made him feel all sudden again. It had been— a while since he’d felt like this. Light.

As if he could take on the world again and conquer it. On his own.

He would face the world head on and get Anthony back — chased out by his own words as he’d been, it would be difficult but not impossible to gain him back and be worthy of his affection and secrets again.

One day, he’d be able to sit down with Anthony again, talk to him. His hand running through his hair, down his jawline before he’d stop and kiss him. He wanted it— so much, so _much,_ he’d forgotten how it felt to kiss Anthony. He remembered how he smelled only because he could _name_ these things but he couldn’t recall the smell. Not like that, not anymore. He’d drunken enough to make sure he forgot all about that.

He saw Anthony’s grin in his head, how his hands fidgeted around until he’d found something he could play around with—a pencil, a cup, a rubber, DUM-E’s claw. Everything, but no empty hands. On occasion he loved to play with Loki’s hair, tugged at it gently. He’d used to put it into his mouth when he had one of his _genius idea_ hours. Hair in mouth, just like that.

_“Do you like the taste of it?”_

Anthony had made a point out of _chewing_ on his hair and Loki had felt how the roots had tugged at his scalp. It had been so _weird,_ but it was what made him love Anthony all the more — his strangeness. That he wasn’t _normal_. That he had refused to give at any point ever, in his life, simply did what he wanted. And if it pleased him to put Loki’s hair into his mouth? _Well then._

Loki had gone to take a shower afterwards, told Anthony to make sure his drool was gone from his hair otherwise—

And Anthony had apologised, deeply and humbly, _lovingly_. His hands kneading the tense knots in Loki’s back, kneaded them out until he felt like a newborn again before he’d gone to his knees and apologised _again._

_“You don’t mind my drool on your dick though, do you?”_

The sound of their laughter had started to fade as well from Loki’s memory. He was an immortal but he didn’t have an immortal memory. Sounds, scents— they all vanished from his mind first. _Not important._ But oh, would they come back quickly if he smelled it or something similar or heard an old tune again which he’d thought forgotten. It was such a weird thing; brains were absolutely fascinating, and Loki hated them as much as he adored them.

He took the cup to his mouth and emptied the tea. Calmness had spread over him like the sun seeping over the green hills, the rays hit Valkyrie in the face and she scrunched her nose in the most adorable way.

“Thor should be up soon,” he said quietly. Birds were starting to sing outside, or started to _sing again._ Loki couldn’t say, he might have been too wrapped up in the wrestling match and his head to notice them bidding farewell to the night. “He needs to be informed about the celebration.”

“That might be an idea, yes.” Valkyrie threw him a wink before she got up. “That’s your job, I have a few kids to teach how to make—” she stared at him, at loss what to say. “Fishing nets?” she tried slowly.

He laughed and waved her away. When the door fell shut he got up and made coffee, enough for him and Thor to last for several hours and rummaged the shelf in their pantry for bread and sausages, a few fruits. The smell of coffee was already hanging in the air like a lovely drug when Thor entered the kitchen, his eyes wide when he saw the table already laid out and Loki sitting at it, bent over a parchment he was scribbling on furiously.

“You’re up early.”

“For too long,” Loki replied evenly and kicked the chair intended for Thor out. “Sit. Plans have been made and you _will_ sanction them if you don’t want me to be miserable forever.”

Thor instantly looked more awake and Loki felt confirmed in his belief that nothing worked better than some obvious manipulation. Thor jumped onto those like rabbits did to each other.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well.” Loki smirked lazily, feeling in his element here. He pointed at the coffee in Thor’s mug. “We need a different brand for the party.”

“What party.”

“The one you’ll be throwing in one month from today on to celebrate New Asgard’s continuous existence.” He smiled as Thor sputtered.

“ _What party?”_

“I just told you.” He gave Thor the parchment. “Read it. I’m here when you have questions. Do you want your toast buttered or without?”

“Without,” Thor replied with an irritated glance and took the offered parchment.

A while later, and they _still_ had coffee, Thor looked up from the party plan. He looked thoughtful now. “You want to win Anthony back by luring him onto New Asgard and hope that he’ll hear you out?”

“Yes.” Loki raised his cup of coffee. “That’s why we need a different brand. I can tell you already that this coffee won’t be strong enough for his taste.”

“Huh.” Thor cracked his knuckles. “We can do that. A month is more than enough to plan this.” His baby blue eyes turned serious. “Are you sure about this Loki?”

“Yes.” Something flickered in him. It was warm and strong. It felt good and he held onto it. “I want to win him back, Thor. I can’t bear the thought of— spending the rest of eternity separated from each other because of an argument we never talked out.”

Thor nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want him,” Loki said simply.

It was enough to shut Thor up this time; instead he focused on details of Loki’s plans. They weren’t perfect yet, still rough around the edges but most things had been covered and taken care of.

But the month was over sooner than Loki would have wanted it. Not, that it was— _bad._ The idea of seeing Anthony again in person, to be close to him once more, it made him want to scream in excitement in a dignified way. However, his worries worsened too. The possibility that Anthony rejected him outright _was there_ ; his gut was churning and often he felt like hiding in the bathroom, never to emerge again from there. But he was a prince, he was _Loki—_ he wouldn’t show weakness. Not to anyone.

—~—

More time was spent on ensuring that he slept more; he didn’t wish to appear like a corpse when he saw Anthony again. _What kind of impression would that leave of him?_ And Norns, did Loki _want_ to impress Anthony. He wanted to swoop him off his feet and take him away, so that it was only them, nobody else.

Sleep sadly eluded him, stressed as he was. He went to Alfheim to pick up there a potion that gifted him with dreamless sleep the two days before the party would start. It was an addictive juice, so sweet that it made his mouth water just thinking about it. But Loki needed sleep, he needed it because he didn’t want to look like a corpse with shaking bones when the time came. And he _needed it_ because his thoughts were all so similar to each other; everything was centred about Anthony and seeing him again.

When he woke up in the morning he felt— relaxed. It was still early and not too loud outside. All preparations had been finished yesterday, now only the guests needed to arrive and the party could start. It wasn’t many people; the old Avengers and a few of the newer ones that Valkyrie and Thor liked. Some older acquaintances they’d made through the time. _Perhaps_ one or two important politicians of Norway and the House of Glücksburg had been invited too. From one royal family to the other.

It felt like the old times on Asgard where everything seemed to have been easier. The troubles of that time, long forgotten and so simple, almost childish in comparison to the worries plaguing Loki now. A smile flitted over his face as he recalled the grand golden halls, the flutes’ tunes flying through the hallways. The soldiers everywhere, servants quietly hushing through; people screaming in horror upon realising what Loki had done _this time._

 _Innocent times,_ Loki supposed. _The realms had looked bigger to him then._

Bor’s wars on the Nine looked like child’s play to Loki now — he knew all about the realms, had visited them all, had studied and celebrated there and threatened with war and wagered for peace on not only one of them. And in his opinion? He’d done better at that then Bor had. Only that the Aesir would forever remember Bor for his wars, and Loki for his mischief.

But that was preferable to him. If someone ever felt like looking up in the days to come, they would find so much more than just _war accounts._ Bor’s stories were entertaining and loved for the bloodthirst — Loki’s story was complicated and never went where one expected it to go. And he fell in love with a Midgardian, the Jötunn who’d been raised as an Ás. Nobody, least of all _him_ , knew where his story would lead to next, who’d come and who would leave him.

Had he thought at some point in his life, that Anthony and him would split ways _after_ having married and promised each other eternity? _No._ He’d lived in the belief that they’d be forever. They hadn’t. There was a break of _two years_. Maybe longer, maybe really for eternity, although Loki couldn’t believe it.

Not, if Thor looked so confident for today. Not, when Loki had set his mind on getting Anthony back. He was ready to fight — Norns, if this failed, then he would try again and again; until he’d been told to leave it be and give up. Otherwise, he’d keep going. He owed it Anthony, he owed it himself — at least, an apology needed to be said.

The guests were said to arrive late in the afternoon and Loki took care _not_ to be seen. He knew that they all expected him to be there — maybe, maybe not. They were all most aware of his split with Anthony, weren’t they? Perhaps they thought that he wasn’t there to avoid Anthony. That made him want to slit something up but— It wasn’t wrong. Loki wasn’t sure what he’d say if he crossed paths with Anthony already. Tonight?

For tonight, he had a plan. He’d bow his head and tell Anthony that he looked good. Depending on his reaction he would either keep making small talk or ask if he wanted to join him for a drink; a call back to their common past was never a bad idea. Perhaps it’d rekindle a flame of affection in Anthony’s chest. Loki was ready to fight with every weapon available to him, fight dirty too because he _wasn’t going to let this chance to slip through his fingers._ He wouldn’t allow it.

Valkyrie joined him in his room later, carrying a bag with her that looked full.

“That’s from Thor and me,” she said with a smirk and held the clothing bag out to him. “Do you want updates on Stark as you get dressed?”

He blinked, feeling _jitters_ curse through him. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Please.” He took the bag and was surprised by how light it felt. “What is—”

“Get dressed and thank us later.” She threw herself on the table. “Dressing times, Lackey.”

Loki shook his head and opened the bag carefully before he got rid of his clothes.

“He looks good,” Val started to report as Loki pulled on the leather trousers.

They were snug but allowed him enough room to move around comfortably. Golden seams were holding the two parts together, a complicated stitching pattern was on the inside of his thighs. A dark green tunic that didn’t look so different to his usual wear. The next thing he pulled out of the bag was a leather overcoat. Long black stripes ran down his chest in a diagonal pattern, left a huge V free that showed off— his green tunic. He frowned but didn’t think much of it yet. There were three long and broad coattails attached to his coat. The rims were golden and started thinly, grew broader the closer they were to the end of the coattail. Two tails framed his legs, drew attention to the stitching and—

Loki couldn’t contain the snort when he realised _where_ they drew attention to.

“Now if lover boy doesn’t jump you when he sees you, then I don’t know what to do,” Valkyrie muttered. She cleared her throat. “There’s a cloak in there as well. Yes. Anthony looks good. Thor thinks he’s nervous because he tried so hard _not_ to look around as if he’s searching for someone.”

 _Good,_ Loki felt relieved when he heard that. That was promising. He – _they_ could work with that.

The cloak Valkyrie had spoken of was in Loki’s green, the rim was in the same gold hue, only were black waves stitched over it that gave it a different look.

Valkyrie got up from the table and threw it over his left shoulder and fastened it to his side. Then she carefully tugged it into place over his shoulder, fastened it at the small of his back so that the cloak now fell down in an elegant curve on his left side.

“Now _that_ looks like an entire meal and dinner and dessert in one right there.” Valkyrie stepped back, obviously proud of her work.

She had every right to be, Loki found as he transformed the shelf into a body-sized mirror and looked at his reflection. He looked— _good_. Not too hostile or haughty, but the outfit certainly— gave him something.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it from his heart as he looked into the eyes of her reflection. It was easier than facing her directly. “This—”

“I know.” She looked like a smug cat. “And you better use that outfit to get your Midgardian back.”

 _Norns, he would._ Confidence was stroking through Loki. He offered Valkyrie his arm which she took with her smug smile.

“You look great,” he told her as they stepped outside of his rooms.

“I know.” Her smile got even smugger if that was even possible. She wore a suit, black with a blue shirt beneath, a simple black fly around her neck. Loki wondered where she’d gotten that idea from but— she looked good, simple as that.

—~—

The party was just starting, Thor already in the centre of the attention and music was playing. It was _not_ the playlist Loki had put together. No. This was _Anthony’s music._ Hard and loud, guitars were playing and drums in the background. Or— he frowned as he heard it changing, and _Oh—_

There was this, this _tune_. Loki had forgotten it.

_Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?_

Norns. He felt himself grinning as he recognised the tune, the words so clear to him and came back to him as easily. That was—

Nothing could go wrong today anymore.

Valkyrie was pinching him and when he turned to her, she looked at him seriously. “Don’t fuck it up, Lackey.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Good. Because he’s at the bar and ordering a drink.”

Loki _refused_ to look there.

“Is he looking over here?”

She shot him a dirty grin. “He _is staring_ and positively drooling _,_ Lackey. And if I know Stark in any way, then he’s not thinking any pure thoughts right now.”

It made Loki feel good, hearing that. It— shouldn’t, Norns knew he was aware of what effect he could have on Anthony but hearing it _still_ did something to him. He gave Valkyrie a nod and she patted his arm condescendingly because that was simply what she did; knowing she’d suffer no consequences for it because Loki was already with his head elsewhere.

Anthony looked _dashing_ in his dark red suit. Loki couldn’t sate his eyes on the view and he was glad that not many people stood in his way because he wasn’t confident he’d noticed them enough. His heart was beating faster than usual. The music had changed again. But Norns, Loki couldn’t care any less.

To feel Anthony’s eyes on him again, this burning intensity that made him feel as if he was flying, not _walking_ through the room. He took in the styled brown hair, a bit longer than Loki was used to seeing it but it reminded him of the haircut from 2012 again. _Was he not the only one playing dirty?_ He was afraid so, much to his joy. It would make this so much more exciting. If none of them played fair then the field was open and—

Excitement trickled through him and he closed the last distance between them.

For a moment, they both just stared at each other. Not _overwhelmed_ but— simply basked in the moment. Loki took note of the wrinkles in Anthony’s face, beneath his eyes that had grown deeper and the eyebags a few hues darker than the rest of him was. His eyes were glittering with something Loki felt reflected in himself. But he _did_ note how guarded Anthony was, despite everything.

This was no mere _coincidental meeting._

When their looks crossed and stayed locked, Loki became aware that Anthony had come here in the knowledge that Loki had arranged this. That Loki would wait for him here.

_And he’d still chosen to come to New Asgard._

That knowledge seeped through his brain. Loki’s world stopped spinning for a few moments. Eventually, he tore his gaze to the barkeeper. An Ás who’d found her love in the various and multiple beverages Midgard had to offer to them.

“Something light, green.”

A grin played on Anthony’s lips. “Green, huh?”

“Green.” Loki laughed softly. “Some things never change, I suppose.”

Anthony lifted his own glass, full of whiskey. “Same here.”

Loki shook his head lightly. _This was already not going to plan._ But it didn’t feel like it was a bad thing. It— Wasn’t. It didn’t need to be. This could work out _still_ even when they started different than Loki had wanted them to. That didn’t mean he couldn’t use his opener though.

And by the Nine, he could not _not_ applaud Anthony for his choice of outfit.

“You look stunning.” He cleared his throat. “Truly. I—”

“I noticed you had problems looking somewhere else since you entered the room.” Anthony’s grin took on a teasing edge. “It makes me feel flattered that you ran a straight beeline for me, didn’t even stop to say hi to Thor on the way.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Mhm, after that set up he certainly didn’t expect anything better of you.”

Loki felt Anthony’s eyes run his body up and down, in an absolutely dirty and naughty way.

“You look ravishing yourself,” he purred. “Haven’t seen that leather get up in a while.”

“Thank you.” Loki inclined his head a bit, then he took the drink from the Ás. “Anthony, would you feel like joining me for a walk?”

“And here I thought _I_ was the unsubtle one.” A snort. “Let’s go, your highness. Can I offer my arm?”

Loki grabbed Anthony’s free arm in a dignified way, not letting go of that chance. _So, what if he looked greedy?_ He couldn’t bring himself to care. If Anthony noticed? All the better. Loki didn’t _want_ a misunderstanding to join their complications too. There was a limit to everything and here was one.

They walked around the small mob that was celebrating – Loki hoped Thor hadn’t forgotten about the royals and treated them accordingly. Anthony was surprisingly quietly at his side, his arm never wavered, and he walked forward in confident steps. Loki thought that Anthony was most likely sporting an _intense_ look on his face because people who wanted to approach them, quickly turned on their heel and walked the other way.

When they left the hall, Loki stopped them. He’d planned on walking outside, _neutral ground_ , but it was surprisingly cold outside. Not a surprise but it _was_ colder than expected. “Do you want to take this inside?”

“Never been a fan of the outside.” Anthony gave him a nod.

Loki led him to the great house that was big enough where he and Thor lived. Loki _did_ have his own cabin but he preferred to stay here, he wasn’t used to silence and being alone anymore. It left him time to ponder and that seldom proved to be good. Not that he’d said something to that effect; he’d explained to Thor it would save them time when something needed to be done quickly.

Good thing that Thor was that gullible and had stopped asking.

—~—

Loki opened the door to his rooms almost nervously. The drinks were still in their hand and they didn’t look _fitting_ anymore to this situation.

“That at least solves the question if you want to go to my or your room,” Anthony muttered but Loki heard it. He started coughing, having not expected that and just _wanted_ to take a sip from his glass.

“The joke wasn’t _that_ funny,” Anthony told him in a fond tone but slapped Loki’s back anyway. Norns knew he appreciated it.

“Do you want something else to drink?” he asked and pointed at Anthony to take a seat.

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” Anthony answered. “Since I have the feeling that this talk might… take a while.”

_Norns knew it would._

“How have you been doing?” he asked as he started making coffee, the movements automatic and soothing to him. The smell of coffee beans was comforting.

“Been better.” Anthony’s voice sounded lost. “Not bad, but I certainly have been better.”

Loki turned his head around to catch Anthony’s eyes while he was speaking. He didn’t only sound lost, he _looked_ lost. His gaze was unfocused and staring holes into Loki’s wall.

“I know that feel,” he offered quietly. Seeing Anthony hurt, it made him want to pull him into his arms and tell him that they would fix this — if that was what troubled him. If it wasn’t then Loki would _still_ do his best at fixing it but he might need a moment or two to think of a solution.

“Thor’s keeping me up to date when you came here and chose to stay.”

Loki sucked in a breath. He hadn’t known that. That was—

“I didn’t pry,” Anthony continued and his eyes settled on Loki’s. “I didn’t think I had the right to know _everything_ that was going on in your life but hearing how you were doing? That you were finally making a peep again and I could stop thinking that you might be dead, somewhere? It— I _needed_ to hear that. I won’t apologise for that.”

Loki swallowed. Guilt crept into his very being as he realised how his adventure must have looked to Anthony. When Loki was somewhere off-world, _for months_ after their argument and nobody knew anything. _Norns, he was such a fool._ Had he wondered whether Loki had died? Cold dread and cold satisfaction settled in his guts. A part of him hoped that Anthony had suffered, had cried his eyes out for Loki and _begged_ him to come back — another part of him felt only remorse that he had done this to him.

_They had been in love._

_They hadn’t been supposed to hurt each other like that, not anymore. That’s what they had given each other promises for._

“You needn’t apologise for that.” He cleared his throat and turned back around to the coffee. The brown liquid was already running into the kettle and the coffee aroma was slowly floating up to his nose. “I asked Thor every once a while how you were faring too.”

“You did?” Anthony’s shoulders slumped in what could only be relief. “I— I thought that perhaps you were done with me and didn’t want to hear from me or about me. I was, I wrote small notes and thought about giving them to Thor but I never did.” Anthony laughed nervously and Loki’s stomach twisted.

He grabbed two mugs from the shelf and filled both with coffee.

“I was _angry_ ,” Anthony continued and he kept talking, didn’t want to stop anymore, now that some damn had been broken. “That you just _left_ as if I was nothing but a One-night stand you could leave. I knew you weren’t coming back, fucking shit, I probably hadn’t turned around either if I was you but— I _wanted_ you to come back. I wanted you to prove me fucking wrong, you goddamn fucking asshole. You broke my heart that day twice, you know that?”

“You mine too,” Loki said. “When you didn’t call me back. Didn’t try to stop me either. Instead—” he laughed sharply. “You even encouraged me to leave and it just, it confirmed what I had been fearing all along. That one day we would clash so horribly that we’d split up.” The laugh hurt him on the inside. His hands were trembling but he gripped his mug tighter, felt its warmth and tried to absorb more of it.

“You asshole,” Anthony repeated but it sounded broken.

“Bakrauf,” Loki replied in kind. His heart was _aching_. He wanted to reach for Anthony’s arm and take it, offer comfort— Loki understood the pain, oh did he _understand._ It was his pain that he’d been dragging around the last two years and couldn’t get rid of.

“What you said—” Anthony stopped, took a breath. “Okay, let’s try this again, Rhodey told me not to do the _you-said-thing_ and I’ve always trusted him. So. I know that what I said wasn’t fair. I know that, I don’t enjoy how it has ended or how things went. But what you threw back in my face wasn’t any less fair.” Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I’m not sure if I can forget that, Loki.”

Loki closed his eyes, snorted bitterly. “Thor told me what happened to Frigga and how she died.”

It sounded— so out of place, completely wild but that was– important.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault at all.” Anthony’s eyes took on a hard gleam. “You aren’t responsible for what a stranger does and chooses to do and how someone else will react to it. Maybe it would have ended differently hadn’t you told him to take these stairs but he still might have found your mum. That’s something we’ll never know though.” He ran a hand over his face.

A stone fell from Loki’s heart. He hadn’t— realised how much worth he laid on hearing it from Anthony again. That it had been said in a heated moment, a slip of his tongue. Anthony wasn’t one who lied. The liar of them both was Loki — he lied, he omitted certain things that led people to another conclusion entirely, he only spoke half-truths.

The coffee tasted bitter on his tongue.

“I wanted to hurt you,” he admitted and looked over Anthony’s shoulder. “What I said. I— _I_ can forget what you said to me, I forgive you for that even.” He laughed breathlessly as his heartbeat started to grow louder. “But I wanted to hurt you. I knew your weaknesses.” His eyes slid to Anthony’s and he swallowed when he saw nothing but a mask on his face. Void of any emotion. “And I succeeded, didn’t I?” A bitter smile grew on his face.

“You did.” Anthony stared at him, studied him with his guarded eyes. Waited.

“I can only say that I’m sorry,” Loki said and broke the silence between them. “That I wanted to hurt you on purpose.”

“Accepted.” Anthony picked up his mug. “And forgiven, since you forgave me too.”

They were both silent after that. Loki could hear the music from the party but he had no desire to go back there; not when he finally had Anthony here, and in this house. It had been two _years_. Usually, that was nothing in his eyes, a mere blink of his eyes. Time had lost meaning to him. However when it came to Anthony, time meant everything. His heartbeat indicated the turning of the time, minutes turned into hours and another second lost that he hadn’t been allowed to spend at his side because of his own pride.

When he looked at Anthony, he saw _his Anthony._ The goatee was the same as it had been, there were the same wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and talking with him – even about _this_ – felt as natural and came as easy to Loki as did breathing air. But he knew that this _wasn’t_ his Anthony.

In two years they changed much. Wounds had been opened and they hadn’t been able to close them properly until now, left them bleeding and tended to them only with band aids that were too small and made for children. _Alcohol,_ Loki thought and his mind flashed back to all the fights he’d participated in; chased the serotonin, the excitement, _everything_ so that he wouldn’t have to look back and think. _Travelling, further and further_ ; the wounds had still been open and his own mind had ripped them further open, bared them to each and any stranger that passed by and felt like driving his own knife through them. Coming back to New Asgard and _admitting_ that there was Anthony had been one of the few and only things that had felt real and as if it would help Loki.

He wondered how much of the man he loved was still there in the chair opposite to him. How much of him was closed off to him, and how much of what Anthony showed him was a calculated risk and what had broken through unwantedly. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that Anthony was here and only doing what emotions told him to do, no—

They’d been both burned often enough to know better.

Loki sat here and he was doing the same. He reigned quite a few of his emotions in, the _bakrauf_ had slipped out because it was so easy to fall back into their old patterns, to tease and retaliate in kind.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Anthony threw out there. The five words hang between them like an offered handshake and while Loki had never gotten the meaning behind _handshakes_ , he wasn’t one to pass up on a golden apple.

“Thank you for coming here despite knowing what it is.”

“You won’t believe it but I actually wanted to see you again.” Anthony grinned at him shortly before he turned serious again. “I missed you.”

The confession came unexpected. It threw Loki into a whirl storm of emotions he couldn’t sort and he was glad for the table and its grounding presence here.

“I’ve missed you too.”

_And I still love you._

The coffee tasted bitter. Anthony’s words echoed sweetly in his head.

He couldn’t believe his ears. Could he?

Pinching himself hurt. This _was_ real, as real as it could be.

“I had hoped that—” Anthony chuckled, “that the invitation was a trick on Thor’s part. That he wanted to get us back together or something. It was your idea though, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Loki’s lips twitched. “I had support from Thor and Valkyrie though. I’m not sure if this talk would have happened so soon otherwise.”

“Would you have approached me at another point later?” Anthony asked gently.

“I’d like to think that I would have.” Loki carefully, slowly as if afraid that Anthony would run away any moment. “Being without you showed me how much better it is to _have_ you at my side. Waking up and starting the day without you isn’t worthy of opening my eyes and paying attention to my surroundings. The last few months had gotten _easier._ Not good, but they weren’t and nothing really felt worth the effort anymore.” He lowered his gaze to his coffee, didn’t want to be set out to the burning intensity of Anthony’s gaze any longer.

He didn’t want to _see_ what he was thinking. He only wanted— to get this off his chest, he supposed.

“I tried to forget you and what happened by engaging in reckless behaviour but you and your stupid voice were always there, in the back of my mind. Or someone said something and it reminded me of you; it was like there was no escape from you. And I didn’t— I think I didn’t want to be free of you entirely.” Loki grabbed his cloak with one hand, buried his fingers into the soft material.

“Losing you hurt me,” he whispered. “That I can’t take you into my arms and comfort you because I’ve lost that privilege, _hurts me now_. I don’t know how to deal with this pain, Anthony.” He raised his eyes. “I don’t _want_ this pain; brought forth by the uncertainty if there’ll ever be an us again or if we gambled and lost everything to the Norns’ cruel twist of fate.”

He saw nothing but shock on Anthony’s face. It was preferable to the mask he’d worn earlier. The indifference he’d feigned, that Loki was treated that way—

He knew he had earned that behaviour, but it didn’t make it any better. Or easier to bear, the opposite more like. His breath sounded harsh to his own ears as he waited for a reply. He wished that Anthony would say _something_ , would release him from this cage Loki found himself in. Either to toss him into the void or to pull him up from the bridge — Loki only wanted one solution, but each would be better than none and leave him hanging by the thread that slow but surely would kill him. Because it could _not_ go on like that.

“If you feel anything remotely to how we felt two years ago,” he somehow managed up enough breath to speak up again, “then I would do nothing rather but work towards earning your love back. And if you decide you wish for me to leave you be, then I shall adhere to your word too. There is— I want to make you happy again, Anthony. I want to hear your laugh again and share your bed, find home again with you and face the world together with you. Have the mornings have a meaning again. I _can’t_ promise that I won’t hurt you like this again but by the Norns— I have felt the consequences of speaking before thinking. The memory of it hurts and it burns me on the inside. I have learned my lesson if this is to be seen as one.”

“Oh Loki,” Anthony said gently and his voice was shaking.

Loki swallowed and he laid his hand on the table, palm open, inviting Anthony to take it.

“You know how to work your silvertongue, don’t you?”

 _Did he?_ Loki supposed that it must be true but what he’d said— he didn’t mean to ensnare Anthony or rob him of his sanity. He only wanted to— show him that he _meant it._ That he knew better, that he was capable of changing and doing better. He was not a moron, he knew what to use his brain for if it didn’t take advantage of him beforehand.

He took a shuddering breath. Another, last confession laid on his tongue but he didn’t think that this was the moment to speak it out. Not yet.

“I want you back too,” Anthony said and his fingers danced over the skin of Loki’s palm before he took it. His hand was _warm._

Like Loki remembered it, the warmth. It was such an _Anthony_ thing for him, it was ridiculous. Many people were warm but— it wasn’t the _same,_ Loki couldn’t put his finger on it but— Thor’s warmth never evoked the same response in him as did Anthony’s.

“Loki, you have no idea how much I want you fucking asshole back. I travelled to fucking New Asgard to meet you again because I had no idea when another opportunity like that would plop up again. And you’re making me cry, you fucking asshole. You have _no right_ to say so many cheesy things to me.”

“But I—” he tried to defend himself.

“I meant that as a compliment, you teaspoon.” Anthony’s fingers curled around his until the grip felt too strong. But Loki didn’t complain, instead he squeezed back. The hand turned into his anchor as the table stopped being enough for him.

He needed Anthony, he couldn’t— he wasn’t even sure how to survive without him much longer from here on.

There were tears swimming in Anthony’s eyes before he rubbed them away with a quick wipe of his free arm.

Loki only smiled. It felt strangely wobbly on his lips but he couldn’t make it any steadier. He wasn’t sure his own emotions were steady right now; they were all over the place. Not quite exploding, not yet but—

“And I feel the same about you, you know?” Anthony added in what was most likely meant to be a light tone. But it sounded as wobbly as Loki felt. “I’m just at loss what to say, since you had to go and— Just, okay, so—”

Loki only saw fleetingly Anthony’s hand grabbing him at the cloak before he pulled him in closer over the table, not wasting a thought about the various cups on the table. Only pulled him in to press his lips against Loki’s.

He melted upon impact.

His eyes fluttered shut and any defensive reaction he’d had, faded away into the sensation of Anthony’s lips pressed against his. Just firm enough that Loki _felt_ it before they started moving when he realised that no resistance would be coming from Loki.

 _As if he wanted to resist this_ , he thought and grabbed Anthony too around his nape. He didn’t want to let go of him, wouldn’t let him _go_ , not anymore.

He heard himself gasping when Anthony gave his bottom lip a quick bite, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Loki didn’t mind at all. Anthony’s goatee was scratching over his jaw, gave him the faintest of beard burns; Loki couldn’t get enough of this feeling, stubble was rubbing against him in the most wonderful way only. His fingers carded through the soft hair, such a gorgeous feeling which Loki had taken for granted and lost. Rediscovering how easily the curls slipped through his fingers was amazing.

The feeling of their tongues sliding against each other made him keen into the other’s mouth. A soft whimper reached his ears when he drew back, gasping for breath already. His lips felt swollen and were pulsating. When he ran his tongue over it he could taste Anthony on them. But it was only a taste, not Anthony himself and Loki decided to act— threw the table aside to make himself comfortable on Anthony’s lap.

Because _norns,_ he was allowed to do this again, he was _welcomed_.

And it certainly was more than welcomed, coming from the hardening bulge beneath his ass that made him shiver in more than just delight. Loki claimed Anthony’s mouth in another kiss, drew it out and did his best at making the other see stars and feel good.

 _Only good from this point onward_.

It didn’t need to end, in his opinion, only that his lungs were starting to burn from the lack of oxygen. Dying now would be a waste and absolutely idiotic to do. Anthony’s lips were wandering to his jaw, kissed him there before they wandered south. Teeth were grazing over his pulse and _oh, the teasing._

It was such a good feeling, so good and so familiar—

He tilted his head to give Anthony better access to his skin, let him do as he wanted. Because Loki didn’t care _what_ he did as long as this sensation wouldn’t stop that spread through him. Nothing could have prepared him for this—

No, by all the Norns, Loki would have never dared to wager that it would end with them both kissing, making out like they were fresh in love. His body still remembered Anthony, it remembered where this usually led and his own arousal was starting to harden the more bolts of pure pleasure chased through him.

And _oh,_ Loki hated to do this to them but he— didn’t want to ruin this, not so early on. He tugged Anthony carefully away from his throat and waited until his eyes focused on him.

“Don’t you want more?” Anthony asked him. His voice was turning hoarse. His hair hang into his face, tousled and with his swollen lips, he looked debauched and painted a picture of sins that begged to be committed in this kitchen.

“I want this and so many things more,” Loki said against Anthony’s lips. “I fear, I don’t ever wish for you to stop doing this to me.”

“Then why—”

“Stay with me for a few days,” Loki asked him. He was almost nervous but the idea, it sounded so good when he said it out loud. Have Anthony stay with him for a few days, see where the tide would bring them when they were so close to each other again after so much time spent apart. “You can stay here and have the guest room, or you can come with me to my cabin. But I don’t—” He crunched the material of Anthony’s dark suit between his fingers, the soft wool felt so gorgeous against his own skin. “I don’t want to go at things too speedy.”

“When have we ever not done that?” Anthony smiled at him softly. “But I would like to stay for a few days longer. Just you and me, that sounds great.” A laugh slipped from his lips and unlike the other laughs from earlier, this one sounded _sincere_.

In fact, it sounded like the laugh which Loki used to adore and had aimed for most of his days to hear again. It made happiness boil inside of him that he heard it again, that he—

He blinked his tears away, feeling almost angry at himself.

“And I’d love to join you in your cabin.”

Delight exploded inside of Loki and he pressed another kiss to Anthony’s lips. He didn’t, hadn’t—

Anthony owed him _nothing,_ least of all to stay here and indulge Loki. But here he was, and he would stay with him where nobody would dare to interrupt them.

Oh, he had no false hopes — they would have to talk more, he was aware of that. It wasn’t done with just one talk even if that would be preferable. But their wounds needed tending to and they had to get to know each other again before they could continue where they’d left off. So much had happened. Loki tightened his hold on Anthony unconsciously. He didn’t want to let go of him.

_He would have him for a few more days._

The thought calmed him enough that the kiss turned sweeter. His hands were running down Anthony’s arms, ran them upwards again to cradle his face and kept kissing him.

They would manage this and get their happy end. They had faced worse storms than this and if they went that path down together? Loki smiled into the kiss even when it started to taste saltier, _then it could only end well_.

They had the time to get to know each other again. To forget slowly and prove that a fight like that wouldn’t happen again anytime soon. That was doable.

“Anthony?”

Brown eyes, darkened by lust and brightened by the shine of the lamps and his own tears, crossed Loki's gaze and held them. “I love you, Loki,” he confessed. “Einstein knows I shouldn’t say that yet but I never stopped loving you. Not even when I only wanted to wring your neck for leaving me.”

“I love you too, you absurd man.”

“Good.”

Loki watched as Anthony finally let go of a few of his shields and let his guard drop. Not entirely, no. Loki didn’t believe that. But hatching more than just a glimpse of the man he loved again? Nothing compared to that feeling.

“I’m going to transport us into my bed,” he told Anthony in no uncertain terms. “If you have any objection to that, then speak up now or be silent forever.”

“Oh, considering that forever is a truly long time for us, I’ll take the bed.”

Loki grinned, feeling so giddy that it hurt him. His seiðr danced over their bodies and shrouded them in gold before they disappeared and were in his bed a few heartbeats later, Loki still on Anthony’s lap like an octopus but he let go of his grip.

He swapped their outfits for comfortable shirts and trousers and held the blanket open for Anthony in a bland invitation.

“So, sex is too forward for you but cuddling in one bed not?” Anthony asked him with a glint in his eyes.

“Yes,” Loki replied simply. “Because I want to take my time with you when we get to that and focus only on what’s happening, not everything else that’s happening in the background.”

 _“Ah,”_ Anthony said and he slipped beneath the blanket. He didn’t sound disappointed. He sounded as if he understood. He sneaked one leg between Loki’s and used Loki’s arm as a pillow, went totally shameless about it. “If it gets too much, you tell me?”

“Yes.” Loki put his other arm over Anthony’s waist and closed the space between them. They fit together easily until nothing had space between them anymore.

“Sleep well,” he added quietly.

“You as well when you get there.”

Loki was sure that neither of them would fall asleep anytime soon. It was too— they wouldn’t want to miss out on this. He knew he didn’t want to. Anthony’s soft huffs of breath against his collarbones, his hair tickling Loki when he moved too much. The steady beat of his heart, slow and rhythmically.

His eyes fluttered shut while he listened. The beating didn’t change, it stayed how it was and Anthony felt so warm in his arms—

Loki sighed in contentment and hid his smile in Anthony’s hair and tightened his hold around him for a short moment, feeling _everything_ burst up in happiness before it turned calmer. The storm was finally coming to an end for them.


End file.
